Weavers of revolution: the Yarur workers and Chile's road to socialism 9780195045581, 9780195039603

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
Abbreviations (page xiii)
Introduction: A Factory Seized, a Revolution Transformed (page 3)
PART I ORIGINS: CAPITAL, LABOR, AND THE STATE
1. Palestinians in the Promised Land (page 13)
2. The Making of the Old-timers (page 32)
3. The Chilean Road to Socialism (page 53)
4. El Compañero Presidente (page 70)
PART II THE WORKERS ORGANIZE
5. Don Amador and the Youngsters (page 79)
6. The Youngsters Start a Movement (page 92)
7. "¡Ganamos!"—"We Won!" (page 105)
8. The Empleados Form a Union (page 120)
9. Toward Revolution? (page 134)
PART III REFORM OR REVOLUTION?
10. Signals for Socialism (page 139)
11. Why Yarur? (page 150)
PART IV THE WORKERS LIBERATE THEIR FACTORY
12. Setting the Stage (page 159)
13. "We Take the Factory" (page 173)
14. The Compañeros Confront Their Compañero Presidente (page 182)
15. "Day of Liberation" (page 197)
PART V AFTERMATH
16. Ex-Yarur: Socialism from Below (page 209)
17. The End of the Democratic Road (page 227)
18. The Death of a Dream (page 246)
Epilogue (page 253)
Notes (page 257)
Glossary (page 299)
Select Bibliography (page 300)
Index (page 317)

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WEAVERS OF REVOLUTION

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WEAVERS OF REVOLUTION The Yarur Workers and Chile’s Road to Socialism

PETER WINN

New York Oxford OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

Oxford University Press Oxford New York Auckland Bangkok Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai Dar es Salaam Delhi Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi Sio Paulo Shanghai Singapore Taipei Tokyo Toronto and an associated company in Berlin

Copyright © 1986 by Oxford University Press, Inc. Published by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York, 10016 http://www.oup-usa.org Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Winn, Peter. Weavers of revolution.

Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. Textile workers—Chile. 2. Yarur Manufacturas Chilenas de Algod6n. 3. Employee ownership—Chile—Santiago. 4. Socialism—cChile.

5. Chile—History—1920- . I. Title. HD8039.T42C478 1986 338.7 67721 098331 85—18832 ISBN 978-0-19-504558-1 (pbk.)

In memory of my father, who devoted his life to defending workers’ dreams

And in memory of those Chilean workers who died defending their dreams

The consciousness of a worker is not a curve that rises and falls with wages and prices; it is the accumulation of a lifetime of experience and socialization, inherited traditions, struggles successful and

defeated... .It is this weighty baggage that goes

into the making of a worker's consciousness and pro- } vides the basis for his behavior when conditions ripen

...and the moment comes. —E. P. Thompson

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PREFACE

Like many projects, this one began by accident. In February 1972 I was on my way to Uruguay with the intention of completing research on the nineteenth century that would turn a doctoral dissertation on British influence into a book. During the flight between Lima, Peru, and Santiago, Chile, I was engaged in conversation by a group of Americans who were going to Chile for a political tour of Salvador Allende’s democratic revolution. They were to visit the first factory seized by its workers after Allende was elected, and they invited me to join them. This book is the result of that unexpected visit to the Yarur cotton mill. I spent most of that day at the Yarur factory talking with the workers and their leaders about their experience. As I listened to the workers tell their story, I was struck both by their eloquence and its significance. They would never write their memoirs, but they were as articulate as any politician and more likely to tell the truch—if one took the time to listen. Recording the history of the inarticulate had become fashionable among historians of earlier eras, who often drew upon fragmentary records and ingenious interpolations of data, yet no one was seizing the opportunity to record the history that these workers were making. I remember thinking to myself, “This is the kind of history one should be doing of the revolutionary process, not the view from the presidential palace, but history from the bottom up. After all, if this is a ‘proletarian revolution,’ as Chilean leftists claim, then these workers are its central protagonists.’’ I resolved chat if I ever returned to Chile for research, this was the project I would undertake. During the weeks that followed, the explosion of the Tupamaro civil

war in Uruguay made it impossible for me to proceed with my original plans, so I decided to stay in Chile and do a historical study of the Yarur mill. As I explored chat history, its scope and significance grew. I found that Yarur was the firsc modern cotton textile mill in Chile and the base of one of the most powerful economic empires in that country. I discovered that Yarur had long been a symbol of social struggle, an arena where con-

Vili Preface trasting visions of production and labor relations clashed. I learned that the Yarur workers were not only the first workers to seize their factory after Allende’s election but also the first to force the socialization of their enterprise, despite presidential opposition, and che first to inaugurate worker participation in the management of their enterprise. I met weavers who had imposed cheir vision of revolution on politicians, and spinners who had been

born peasants and in their lifetimes had experienced both an industrial revolution and a transition toward socialism. Through the local history of the Yarur mill, I realized, much of che modern history of Chile could be illuminated. Teaching responsibilities interrupted my research, but I returned to Chile

in mid-1973 and resumed my study—although in the very different and more difficult context of the death throes of the revolutionary process. My research was first altered and then ended by the military coup of September 11, 1973, and its repressive aftermath. I persisted in my efforts for several months, but it was not possible to do an oral history of workers in General Pinochet’s Chile. When I tried to return to the Yarur mill for further research, I was denounced anonymously, detained by the army, and taken at bayonetpoint to a regimental barracks, where I was interrogated at midnight by its commander. After three days of interrogation and investigation, he informed me, “We have no proof that you have committed a crime, exactly speaking, Professor Winn, but talking with workers, interviewing union leaders, all this is very suspicious. We do not want anyone talking to our workers,” he

stressed, bringing my research to an abrupt end. “For that reason, the government has decided that it is best that you leave the country within twenty-four hours.”’ As a result, I was unable to obtain many interviews I had planned. The record of others vanished during their difficult exit from

research.

Pinochet's police state. Nor have I been able to return to Chile for additional

Still, the interviews and notes collected during those months of research were voluminous and rich. The transcription and translation of many hours of interviews proved a lengthy process, and the integration of this rich record of workers’ experiences with a more general interpretation of Chilean history

was an absorbing but time-consuming task. As a consequence, it is only now that I am able to present my research—and the Yarur workers’ story— to the public at large. Any project conceived under such circumstances and executed over so

long a period of time inevitably accumulates many debts, and this one is no exception. Many individuals and institutions in Chile contributed to this book, and I wish that I could acknowledge them all. Space poses one constraint, politics another. Given the state of Chilean affairs, ic might be a disservice to acknowledge their aid and advice in these pages. They know

Preface ix

who they are and I know how invaluable their assistance was. I hope that the contents of this book will be recompense enough for cheir help. It is much easier to thank the institutions and individuals in the United States who contributed to this book. Princeton University’s generous leave policy for junior faculty made the initial research possible, while the Tinker

Foundation’s Postdoctoral Fellowship Program enabled me to begin distilling my research in the hospitable context of Columbia University’s Institute of

Latin American Studies. I owe special thanks and a debt of gratitude to Columbia University’s Research Institute on International Change, which supported the writing of this book for four years and offered both constructive

criticism and continuing faith—in addition to providing a scholarly community conducive to creative work. Frank and Nita Manitzas, Barbara Srallings, and Carol Smith contributed in different ways to the success of my research efforts.

Many of my colleagues at Tufts, Yale, and Columbia Universities read all or portions of che manuscript, as did many colleagues in che field. I am indebted to them all, but it is beyond the scope of this preface to acknowledge chem all individually, although the detailed commentaries of Shane Hunt, Edward Malefakis, Kenneth Maxwell, Daniel Mulholland, and Howard Solomon deserve special mention. I do want to underscore, however, the multiple contributions of three special friends—Richard Locke, Martin Sherwin, and Isser Woloch—without whose encouragement, support, and advice this book might never have reached fruition. And in particular, I want to chank Sue Gronewold—my “in-house” editor, toughest critic, and closest companion—whose many-faceted contributions to this book are woven into its words and into the fabric of our life cogether. Lastly, I would like to thank Nancy Lane and Susan Gyarmati for editorial

advice that made this a far better book, my protests notwithstanding. I am also grateful to Henry Krawitz and Cecil P. Golann for their precise and sensitive copy editing. The photographs are all my own, but I am indebted to Jerry Berndt for his enhanced reproductions. But, most of all, I would like to thank the workers of Ex-Yarur, who trusted me to tell cheir story. When they are able to read it, I hope they will feel that their trust was not in vain.

Cambridge, Massachusetts P.W. December 1985

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Abbreviations Xill Introduction: A Factory Seized, a Revolution Transformed 3 PART | ORIGINS: CAPITAL, LABOR, AND THE STATE

1. Palestinians in the Promised Land 13 2. The Making of the Old-timers 32 3. The Chilean Road to Socialism 53 4. El Companero Presidente 70 PART II

, THE WORKERS ORGANIZE 5. Don Amador and the Youngsters 79 6. The Youngsters Start a Movement 92 7. “jGanamos!”—“We Won!” 105 8. The Empleados Form a Union 120

9. Toward Revolution? 134 PART III REFORM OR REVOLUTION?

10. Signals for Socialism 139

11. Why Yarur? 150 PART IV

THE WORKERS LIBERATE THEIR FACTORY

12. Setting the Stage 159

Xil Contents 13. “We Take the Factory” 173 14. The Companeros Confront Their Companero Presidente 182

15. “Day of Liberation” 197 PART V AFTERMATH

16. Ex-Yarur: Socialism from Below 209 17. The End of the Democratic Road 227

18. The Death of a Dream 246

Epilogue 253

Notes 257 . Glossary 299 Select Bibliography 300

Index 317

ABBREVIATIONS

AIFLD American Institute for Free Labor Development ALALC Latin American Free Trade Association ANEF National Association of Stace Employees

A.P.I. Popular Independent Action party CEREN Cuadernos de la Realidad Nacional

CIA (U.S.) Central Intelligence Agency C.L.E. Special Investigations Commission, Ministry of Economy

CORA Agrarian Reform Corporation CORFO State Development Corporation CTCh Chilean Workers Confederation

CUP Popular Unity Committee

CUT National Labor Confederation DGT/DOS Department of Social Organizations, General Labor Secretariat, Ministry of Labor

DINA National Intelligence Directorate DIRINCO Nationa] Directorate of Industry and Commerce

EURE Estudios Urbanos y Regtonales

FENATEX National Textile Workers Federation

FOCh Chilean Workers Federation

FRAP Popular Action Front

FRENAP Private Enterprise Front

FTR Revolutionary Workers Front ,

GAP President Allende’s personal guard INCHITEX Textile Institute of Chile

ITT International Telephone and Telegraph Corporation

JAP Price and Supply Committees

JJCC/Jora Communist Youth organization

MAPU Movement for Popular United Action | MIR Revolutionary Left Movement

ODEPLAN National Planning Ministry PADENA National Democratic party

PIR Party of che Left Radicals

RCA Radio Corporation of America

Xiv Abbreviations SAYMCHA S.A. Yarur, Chilean Cotton Manufacturers SCSSSABC/DSA — Superintendency of Insurance Companies, Limited Corporations and Chambers of Commerce, Department of Limited Corporations

Ses. Extra. Special Session of Congress Ses. Ords. Ordinary Session of Congress SOFOFA National Manufacturers’ Association

U.T.E. State Technical University

WEAVERS OF REVOLUTION

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INTRODUCTION: A FACTORY SEIZED, A REVOLUTION TRANSFORMED

On Monday, the twenty-sixth of April 1971, Chileans awoke to surprising headlines: The workers of the Yarur cotton mill, the country’s largest, had seized their factory and were demanding its immediate socialization by the Allende government. A cause of alarm to some and celebration to others,

the seizure (toma) of Yarur was viewed by all as a turning point on the “Chilean road to socialism.’’ Since Allende’s election as Chile’s president some eight months before, there had been seizures of farms by peasants anticipating land reform and tomas of vacant suburban lots by squatters seeking homes. There had even been a few takeovers of factories that had been abandoned or closed by their owners. Yarur was different. Its owners had neither fled the country nor ceased production; they had neither stopped paying wages nor gone bankrupt. Nor was Yarur an unimportant industry or a special case, an exception to that revolution by democratic rules that Salvador Allende had promised Chile's economic elite. On the contrary, the Yarur mill was che nation’s largest cotton textile plant, a strategic industry that supplied the armed forces and hospitals with uniforms and bedding, the flour mills with sacks and knitting mills with yarn, and the populace with inexpensive cotton cloth. Not only was Yarur an important industry; it was also a symbolic one. To some, it symbolized the creativity and contribution of Chile’s entrepreneurs. Juan Yarur was a Chilean Horatio Alger. Founder of the first modern cotton mill in Chile, he turned it into the base of one of the country’s greatest fortunes. In the process, a Palestinian peddler became a captain of Chilean 3

4 Introduction industry, a rags-to-riches story that accompanied and symbolized the nation’s industrial development. So fabled was the family’s wealth by 1971 chat “tan rico como Yarur” (“as rich as Yarur’’) had become a Chilean saying. By then

the Yarur mill had become the base of a family economic empire, which included Chile’s second largest bank, insurance companies, radio stations, and real estate, in addition to an array of textile factories and distributors. To many Chileans, the Yarurs symbolized both the success of the nation’s entrepreneurs and their contribution to its development. Other Chileans agreed that the Yarur story was emblematic of the evolution of their country’s private sector, but they viewed it less as a cause for celebration than as a cautionary tale. To them, Yarur symbolized the “monopoly” and “dependent” character of Chilean capitalism and its sweetheart relationship with the Chilean state at the expense of its competitors, consumers, and workers. Although they acknowledged the entrepreneurial genius of the firrn’s founder, they stressed that state assistance was the real secret of his success. Yarur’s political influence had secured his business protective tariffs, cheap foreign exchange, and favorable regulation. The result

was a protected ‘‘national” industry that could not compete with cheaper foreign goods, but was tied to foreign capital and dependent on the importation of machinery, spare parts, and raw materials. Although technically a public company, Yarur was run as a family firm: in patrimonial style, a central enterprise in an economic empire notorious for its shrewd but shady management. By 1971, this Yarur economic empire was one of the largest and most powerful in Chile, and the Yarurs were counted among the dozen financial “clans” that dominated the Chilean economy. To Allende’s economic advisers, this history and position marked the Yarur mill as a prime cargec for nationalization by a government committed

to gaining control of the “commanding heights” of the Chilean economy, ‘declaring war on monopolies,” and placing the nation’s industries “at the service of the people.” | To the mill's workers, Yarur’s significance was less abstract but equally salient. It was their world, one ruled with an iron hand by omnipotent and Capricious owners who demanded deference in addition to discipline and loyalty in addition to production. To them, the mill represented a steady job in a country plagued by unemployment, but it was a job that exacted its pound of flesh in return for low wages and limited benefits. On the factory

floor, the workers were controlled by the Taylor System, in which every movement was regulated and each moment monitored, converting them into optimally efficient extensions of the machines they tended. The introduction of taylorismo a decade before had produced the biggest and bitterest strike in the factory’s history, with more than a thousand workers fired and blacklisced in its wake.

Introduction 5 But strikes were few and far between at the Yarur mill. Social control of the workers was ensured by a combination of paternalism and repression. Loyalty to the patrén was rewarded, but it was demonstrated by informing on fellow workers. Only a company union was tolerated, and discussion of an independent union or national politics was prohibited, along with criticism of the Yarurs or of working conditions in the factory. “Deviance” from this norm of unquestioning loyalty was reported by informers and punished by harassment, transfer to undesirable sections, suspension, and dismissal. Asa result, Yarur was notorious for its repressive politics, rigid social control, and exploitative working conditions. Although the social politics of the Yarur mill reflected the paternalistic

vision of its owners, it also relied on the complicity of the Chilean state. The Labor Code of 1931 gave the state broad authority to regulate labor relations and to ensure union democracy, projecting the state as the neutral _ arbiter of the conflict berween labor and capital. Yet, with rare exception, these powers had been invoked by venal officials, beholden politicians, or conservative governments to confirm the absolute authority of the Yarurs over their workers. On three occasions, the election of presidents heading coalition governments with leftist participation triggered workers’ movements that counted on state support to redress the power imbalance between labor and capital at Yarur, only to be disappointed—and defeated. These intertwined histories of the Yarurs, their workers, and the Chilean state—recounted in the background chapters—were part of the mind-set of the actors in the 1970—71 drama and helped shape their expectations and

behavior. Amador Yarur, anxious ‘‘to be what his father had been,” was determined that history should repeat itself. His veteran workers feared this would be the case and were reluctant to risk themselves in yet another losing cause. Leftist leaders, locally and nationally, were determined to break with this pase and to fulfill their pledge to construct a New Chile—even at the

Yarur mill. :

In 1970, the election of Salvador Allende—itself a reflection of the rise of the Left and the leftward shift of the Center nationally—detonated a new and more powerful workers movement at the Yarur mill. It was led by a new generation of younger workers, more urban and better educated than the old, more typical of the new working class that had emerged in Chile during the preceding years. It was these “Youngsters” (jévenes) who persuaded the “Old-cimers”’ (viejos) that with a companero presidente they could defeat the

Yarurs and win an independent union. In the wake of Allende’s election, the blue-collar workers regained control of what had been a company union and forced the Yarurs to accept the first authentic collective bargaining in a decade, negotiations that resulted in major gains in wages and working conditions. During these same months, S.A. Yarur’s five hundred employees

6 Introduction organized the first white-collar union in the firm’s history. By the end of 1970, a repressed group of textile workers had cast aside their apparent passivity and crowned a year of struggle with success—a local social triumph made possible by the national political victory of the Chilean Left. Within months of those achievements, moreover, the workers’ movement

at Yarur had moved beyond these historic aspirations to new and more revolutionary goals, translating the abstract planks of the Popular Unity program into their own concrete reality. By April 1971, the Yarur workers were ready for the structural transformation that Allende had promised them during his campaign—the socialization of their mill—a step that embodied their understanding of the meaning of the Chilean revolution. To the workers of Yarur, the seizure and socialization of their mill were like che fall of the Bastille—a dreamed-of but scarcely imaginable event that freed them from the shackles of their past and dissolved the very contours of their world into pure possibility. Ex-Yarur, their socialized factory, where they created their own vision of “democratic socialism,’ was a dream of workers who had never before dared to dream. This book is the story of the birch—and death—of their dream. It is also a case study in revolution from below. Following the election of Salvador Allende on a platform promising a democratic road to socialism, — the Yarur mill was the first factory to be seized by its workers as a way of securing its socialization and the first to experiment with worker co-management. It was an industry in the vanguard of a revolution from below that powerfully influenced the pace, direction and outcome of the Chilean revolutionary process. Most students of the Chilean revolution have viewed it in partisan policical cerms, blaming Communists or Christian Democrats, Socialists or Nationalists, che extreme Left or the far Right, for its changing course and tragic conclusion.’ What these divergent interpretations have in common is their perspective: They are essentially views from above, which assume that national political actors were the important players in the revolutionary drama, and ignore the relative autonomy of local actors and movements.

Yet che history of the Yarur mill during the months that followed Allende’s election and inauguration suggests a more complex interpretation,

one in which the workers’ revolution from: below, with its own internal dynamic, played a major role. The Chilean revolution reached a turning point in April 1971, wich the seizure of che Yarur mill by its workers and its socialization by the Allende government, using executive decree powers to circumvent an opposition-controlled Congress. A wave of factory seizures

followed, all demanding immediate socialization and forcing Allende to choose between his carefully controlled and phased strategy for socialism and

a confrontation with his central mass base. As a consequence, the timetable |

Introduction 7 for structural cransformation was accelerated, and the revolutionary process was radicalized; in response, the Center moved right and the middle classes embraced counterrevolution.

National political actors, from President Allende and his ministers to party and labor leaders, played major roles in this turning point, but so did the workers of the Yarur mill. As Allende was acutely aware, the Yarur drama revealed as unresolved che crucial questions of revolutionary leadership

and strategy. In its wake, it was unclear who was determining the pace and direction of the revolutionary process and who was deciding its strategy and cactics. Within che Popular Unity coalition and government, auconomous yet overlapping centers of authority appeared to coexist uneasily and compete for ascendancy. Within the revolutionary camp as a whole, the Yarur toma and its aftermath underscored the tension between revolution from below and revolution from above, the contest between workers and politicians, the clash between leaders and masses and their differing visions of the revolutionary process. Ic was a tension that was never resolved, and in the end it proved fatal to the Chilean revolution. For all these reasons, the Yarur toma

marked a turning point in the Chilean revolution, and its workers were central protagonists of this drama. This book is their story, which I have tried to tell as much as possible through their eyes and in their words, in an effort to preserve the authenticity of their reality and to convey the reality of their experience. Although some labor historians of Latin America have pursued similar goals, none have utilized the same methods—combining oral history with the factory study. Most research in Latin American labor history to date has involved institutional, statistical, or ideological approaches to workers’ lives. These studies have added to our knowledge and laid the foundations of the field, but they are largely views from above or analyses from outside, too general or too abstract to capture the concrete historical experiences of workers, both in themselves and in relation to more global historical events and processes. The history of labor in Chile is a good example of both the accomplishments and limitations of existing scholarship.* Some studies have sketched the outlines of the origins and development of labor organizations and milicancy in Chile, but have based frequently tendentious interpretations on a slender body of evidence.* Others have demarcated the pattern of wages and prices, strikes, and voting behavior’ or analyzed labor relations or the ties

between labor and political parties.” There have also been a few useful biographies of national union leaders® and some suggestive writings based on survey data.’ These studies constitute contributions to scholarship, but almost all are descriptions of a labor iceberg from the tip that appears above the national waterline. Leaders, insticutions, ideologies, statistical averages, and struc-

8 Introduction tures are discussed. With rare exception, the workers themselves—the presumed protagonists of labor history—appear in these studies only as institutional, theoretical, or statistical abstractions; the concrete and complex realities of their experience are conspicuous by their absence. Where oral history interviews have been used, their purpose has generally been to add color to otherwise traditional studies or to bear political witness to traumatic national events. The alternative is to fuse history from above with history from below. In this book I have combined the microhistory of the factory study with the insights of oral history, integrating them with national perspectives and written sources. Within this context, I have cried to reconstruct the experience of the workers of the Yarur mill during a particularly salient period of their history—and Chile’s. Along the way, I have sought co illuminate such neglected areas of Latin American labor history as the history of work, __ the formation of consciousness, and divisions within the working class reflecting differences in character, worldview, and politics. Within the arena of the Yarur mill, I have explored as well the relationship between classes and assessed the role of the state in the contest between labor and capital. The struggles of workers do not take place in a vacuum, nor can their experience be understood in isolation from the history of capital and the contest between labor and capital for control of the state.

In Chile, labor, capital and the state formed an eternal triangle, within which the destiny of the Yarur workers was decided. I have also examined the relationship between changes within the industry and changes in the economy, polity, and society outside its walls, including the relationship between workers’ movements from below and national labor organizations and political parties. A well-chosen case study can also illuminate more global historical events and processes—national and international, economic or political. The Yarur mill was a classic example of the import substitucion industrialization and

paternalistic labor organization that characterized the Popular Front and postwar eras. The impact of foreign technologies and managerial models, international conflicts and multinational corporations on developing economies is revealed in the factory's history. Four of Yarur’s five workers’ movements followed national elections perceived by the workers as leftist victories, and they cast light from below on Chile’s political course.

In order to illuminate this complex history and capture the workers’ experience, I have made use of a variety of sources, written as well as oral. I have drawn on available statistical materials, including published and unpublished S.A. Yarur statistics and data culled from the company archives. Government statistics were another source, particularly data from the Min-

Introduction 9 istries of Economy and Labor, from the Superintendency of Public Corporations and the Textile Committee of the State Development Corporation (COREFO). Census and election returns were also used, as were the data compiled by the Textile Institute of Chile (INCHITEX), the private-sector business association, and W. R. Grace’s Chilean textile subsidiary. I have made use of correspondence found in the company archives and in the Ministry of Labor archives; and I have utilized as well the minutes of union meetings, of the S.A. Yarur Board of Directors and of the state mediation board, along with the minutes of Ex-Yarur’s Administrative Council and Coordinating Committee.

The annual reports of S.A. Yarur and other public companies were researched, as were the annual reports of the Society for the Promotion of Manufacturing (SOFOFA) and the Textile Institute of Chile. The reports of government investigators and state labor inspectors were also consulted. Alchough the police archives were not open to me, police reports occasionally appeared or were quoted in Labor Ministry files, congressional documents,

or court records; and a few reports of the company police were turned up. : The reports and notes of journalists and scholars who visited the Yarur mill : were often of interest. Notarial and judicial archives were utilized, as were the texts of congressional debates and presidential speeches. Chilean, Peruvian, Bolivian, and American periodicals—ranging from daily newspapers and weekly magazines to specialized trade publications and the Arab community press—proved important repositories of fact and opinion. Worker flyers, pamphlets, and newspapers were valuable sources for the history of Yarur workers’ movements. But first and foremost, I have relied on oral history, conceived of neither as folklore nor as sacred text, but as a historical source like any other, whose information and arguments have to be evaluated in the same way as a historian

would evaluate a written text.” My study is based largely on oral history interviews, some of which were recorded on tape and others noted down by hand. During the course of my research, I conducted more than two hundred interviews, including multiple interviews with many individuals. There were interviews with political and labor leaders at the national and local levels,

with state labor inspectors and ministry officials, with mill owners and managers, with people who knew che Yarurs in Peru and Bolivia, and with

those who did business with them in Chile. There were interviews, too, with local storekeepers and residents of the neighborhoods surrounding the Yarur mill and housing developments and also interviews with the families’ of Yarur employees. Most of all, I interviewed workers—blue-collar and white-collar, male and female, Old-timers and Youngsters, leftists and rightists, skilled and

10 Introduction unskilled, weavers and spinners, leaders and rank and file. It was their words that largely shaped my understanding of the Chilean experience. It is their

experience that shapes this book: the story of the creation of “Ex-Yarur: Territory Free of Exploitation’—a turning point in the Chilean revolution.

I ORIGINS: CAPITAL, LABOR, AND THE STATE

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PALESTINIANS IN THE PROMISED LAND

When the workers toppled Juan Yarur’s larger-than-life statue from its pedestal in the Plaza Yarur and took over the factory that bore his name, they not only inaugurated a new epoch in their own lives. They also brought to a Close an era that had begun in 1937, when Juan Yarur opened Chile’s first modern cotton mill. Yarur had come to Chile from neighboring Bolivia three years before at the invitation of the government of President Arturo

Alessandri, which was interested in promoting domestic industries as a solution to the intense economic problems generated by the Great Depression. The trip from the barren highlands of Bolivia to the fertile valleys of Chile was brief, but for Juan Yarur ic marked che end of a far longer journey that had taken him halfway across the globe. Juan Yarur Lolas was born in 1896 in the holy town of Bethlehem, then part of Ortoman Palestine. He was the oldest of three sons born to Carlos Yarur and Emilia Lolas, and although he was not born in a manger, neither was he from a wealthy family. The Yarurs were Christian Arabs and, like many of their community, lived off the religious tourist trade. Carlos Yarur was a maker and seller of pearl-shell trinkets whose prosperous business employed twenty artisans; his wife came from a less wealthy family of farmers

and fishermen. The Yarurs were comfortable enough to send Juan and his _brother Nicolas to the Kaiser Wilhelm School that German missionaries had founded near Bethlehem and that Juan Yarur attended through secondary school. '

As a teenager, he helped out in the family business; and when his father died, he set up on his own, selling religious souvenirs to the pilgrims who came to Bethlehem. It was a business that offered little scope for Juan Yarur’s

13 |

budding entrepreneurial talents. By 1912, moreover, the Ottoman Empire -

14 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State was at war in the Balkans and was torn by ethnic tensions. The sixteenyear-old Juan Yarur, with his younger brother, Nicolas, left Palestine to escape both the imperial draft and Turkish intolerance of the empire’s Christian Arab minority.” The young Yarur brothers wandered through Europe peddling religious trinkets and then took ship for America to escape the gathering war clouds

on the Continent. Like most Arab immigrants of this era, they knew little of the lands to which they were headed and based their choice of destination on the presence of relatives who could help them get a start in the New World. Juan and Nicolas Yarur had a married older sister in Chile and a cousin in Bolivia. With no other star to guide their journey from Bethlehem, they set sail for Chile and by 1914 had settled in Bolivia. There, with che money they had brought with them, the Yarur brothers opened a small store in the highland tin mining center of Oruro. * Juan Yarur spent two long decades in the Andean highlands of Bolivia and southern Peru, transforming himself from a Palestinian peddler into a Latin American industrialisc along the way. In booming Oruro, during World War I, he became a wholesaler, supplying imported textiles to the shopkeepers and peddlers who sold cheap goods to Bolivia’s miners and peasants. When the war ended, Juan Yarur took his pregnant wife to the more clement clime of Arequipa, the commercial capital of southern Peru, a better place to raise a family.* In Arequipa, Juan Yarur began to work with the Saids, who had emigrated there from Bethlehem three decades before, and by 1918 had become one of the major importers of southern Peru, specializing in textiles for the Indian peasantry of the densely populated highlands.’ From the Saids, he learned the import trade, along with che use of recent Arab immigrants as a loyal, low-cost distribution network. From them he also learned that a public position as Arab community leader could further private economic ends.° The Saids were impressed by Juan Yarur’s

entrepreneurial talents, and when the Yarur brothers returned to Oruro in 1920, it was as junior partners in the prestigious import house of Said & Sons, with responsibility for the Bolivian market.’ In Bolivia in 1929, the importers became industrialists. As distributors of imported textiles, the Saids and Yarurs were aware of the large market for heavy flannels and other rough cotton goods among the poor peasants of the Andean highlands, which was being satisfied by imports from overseas. When the opposition of foreign-owned textile factories and domestic political enemies blocked the Said request for a Peruvian concession, the Yarurs used the contacts that they had developed with influential Bolivians to secure an exclusive concession in La Paz, where there was no existing coccon mill co

Oppose them and where a nationalist government favored industrial development.°

Palestinians in the Promised Land 15 In 1929, Said & Yarur’s La Paz cotton mill opened with the aid of an exclusive Bolivian concession, American machinery and technicians, and local

loans. For two years, the Yarurs, who managed the mill, struggled to overcome unsuitable workers, resistant consumers, financial difficulties, and their own inexperience. They were helped by the Great Depression, which left a bankrupt Bolivia without the foreign exchange to import textiles, but it was the Chaco War (1932-35) that made their fortune. This conflict between Bolivia and Paraguay over the oil-rich Chaco Desert put their idle looms and spindles to work making uniforms and blankets for the Bolivian army. It also converted their cotton mill into a strategic war industry, which the government subsidized by giving them scarce dollars at an artificially low

rate of exchange—dollars that were supposed to be used to import raw materials and spare parts, but could also be sold on the black market for windfall profits.” “The Chaco War was a bonanza for Said & Yarur,” a former

employee recalled.'° By its close, Juan Yarur had become economically powerful, politically influential, and socially acceptable. He had also established connections with American bankers, manufacturers and exporters that would make his next industrial venture far easier than his first. "' Equally important were the experience gained and the lessons learned. At bottom, the Yarurs’ Bolivian mill was a school for industrialists, a classroom in which they learned how to found and manage an industry—how to secure a concession, select machinery, shape a labor force, master modern

technology, run a mill, and distribute its production. “For us the La Paz factory was a big leap,” affirmed Nicolas Yarur, “because we never had a

factory before.”’' |

Although some of these lessons were the common stock of industrial entrepreneurs everywhere, others were specific to Latin America. In La Paz the Yarurs learned that in order to secure a concession one had co offer something to everyone—a cotton market to farmers, jobs to labor, foreign exchange savings to governments, and development to nationalists. They also learned cto found an industry with government subsidies, foreign credits,

and local loans without putting up capital of their own. They learned how to shape a docile and disciplined work force out of ill-educated rural migrants

and how to cast labor relations in a paternalistic mold. They learned, too, chat women workers were less expensive, more malleable, and equally skilled

mill hands. They learned, moreover, to place their trust in American technology and technicians. Bolivia also taught the Yarurs that there were more ways to profit from a Latin American industry than by selling its products—particularly where foreign exchange was scarce and could be secured from a friendly government

at a subsidized rate of exchange. Most of all, La Paz taught them the importance of the Latin American state to the fortunes of private entrepre-

16 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State neurs—and thus the importance of securing political influence. The Yarurs’ Bolivian mill was not just a school for industrialists; it was a school for Latin American industrialists. It was also where Juan Yarur established himself as an entrepreneur who could successfully mount a modern textile industry where none existed, amid the constraints of Andean instability and underdevelopment. In 1933, when the Alessandri government wanted capitalists who could create a modern

cotton industry in Chile, ic sought out the Palestinian entrepreneur and invited his firm to establish a similar industry in che territory of Bolivia's wealthier neighbor. Juan Yarur’s pilgrimage from Bethlehem to Bolivia may have been long and arduous, with many years spent wandering in the Andean

wilderness, but his entry into the city of St. James was triumphal.

A PALESTINIAN’S PROGRESS Ic was in April 1933 that Juan Yarur set out from La Paz for Santiago, Chile. Although the two countries were neighbors, the journey between their

capitals was difficult, and the contrast in landscapes striking. To descend from the stark and barren Bolivian plateau, some 14,000 feet above the sea, co the fertile Pacific valleys of central Chile, reminiscent of his native Mediterranean, was to enter a different world. For an Arab emigrant who had wandered so long in the frozen deserts of Bolivia, Chile’s verdant valleys must have seemed the promised land. Although the differences in landscape and climate might have been reason

enough for the trip, “the purpose behind this journey to Chile,” Juan Yarur confided to a Santiago journalist, ‘‘refers to the possible installation of a cotton spinning factory, along the lines of our La Paz factory,’ a project

that would represent an investment of twenty million Chilean pesos ($800,000). The installation of such a mill, Yarur affirmed, would promote “the cultivation of cotton, solve part of the unemployment problem and produce a good savings for the country, which was now forced to purchase for itself in foreign markets what could be produced right here.” In this way, his industry would contribute “a modest grain of sand to the industrial progress of the country.””’* It was an argument that Juan Yarur had perfected _ tn Bolivia and would repeat many times in Chile—to bankers and journalists, mayors and ministers, congressmen and presidents. In talking to Alessandri’s finance minister, Gustavo Ross, however, Juan Yarur was preaching to the converted. Ross was well aware that Chile was the most depressed nation in a depressed world, a country whose extreme dependence on mining exports (principally copper and nitrates, which to-

gether accounted for almost 90 percent of export earnings) had made it

Palestinians in the Promised Land 17 particularly vulnerable to the collapse of international trade during the preceding years. Between 1929 and 1932, the value of Chile’s exports had fallen by 88 percent, mining output by three-quarters, and domestic production

as a whole by almost half. During this same period, the price of staples doubled, real wages fell by some 40 percent, and unemployment soared, with three-quarters of Chile’s miners out of work. The Great Depression struck hardest at those Chileans least able to bear the burden, but few escaped its ravages unscathed, and faith in the economic system itself was shaken.“ The Alessandri government was also aware that such a profound economic trauma could cause dangerous social tremors in Chile because the political earthquake detonated by the Great Depression was responsible for its own existence. In 1931 such unrest had toppled the seemingly impregnable rule of the Chilean strongman, General Carlos Ibafiez del Campo. One year later, the continuing economic crisis had provoked a revolution, led by a charismatic army colonel with the unlikely name of Marmaduke Grove, who had

proclaimed Chile the hemisphere’s first socialist state. Although Grove’s “Socialist Republic” only lasted twelve days before it was overthrown by a more conservative coup, the sudden fashionableness of “socialism” among the middle class and the strong response that Grove’s revolutionary populism had evoked in the urban masses threw a scare into Chile’s traditional elites. One result was the election of Arcuro Alessandri, the upper-class industrialist and reformer who had been ousted as too radical a decade earlier, as the last hope of the status quo. Another consequence was the conversion of even the

laissez-faire commercial elite to the gospel of domestic industry and the catechism of state economic intervention.’ That was why Gustavo Ross, Alessandri’s finance minister and strongman, who spoke for those commercial elites, had invited Juan Yarur to Chile and was prepared to promote a Yarur effort to establish Chile’s first modern

cotton textile industry as part of the Alessandri government's strategy of substituting domestic manufactures for foreign imports.’ With his help, Juan Yarur secured the duty-free importation of spinning machinery and a low tariff on imported looms, plus a million-dollar loan from the Banco de Chile, the nation’s leading private bank, with which to finance the construction of his Santiago factory.'’ With this local support in hand, Juan Yarur was able to obtain his machinery on long-term credit—and at a depression

discount—from the same American manufacturers who had supplied his Bolivian mill. In the end, his Chilean factory was financed almost entirely by local bankers and foreign manufacturers, so that the Arab entrepreneurs only had to put up “‘a few thousand dollars of {their} own.”"*® Banco de Chile

advances also enabled the Yarurs to buy out the Saids. As a result, when the first yard of cloth rolled off the production lines on January 7, 1937— Juan Yarur’s saint’s day—it bore the stamp of “Yarur Brothers,” a family

18 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State firm in which Juan Yarur was the largest shareholder, served as president, and acted as general manager.” Santiago, a city of half a million with a perfect climate and a stunning natural setting, was where Juan Yarur decided to build his cotton mill. It was a shrewd choice, at once Chile’s political capital, financial center, railway

hub, and largest market. The site that Juan Yarur chose for his factory was on the southern edge of the city, then an area of open fields—puro pasto”°-— west of the Carmine industrial zone, close to the Central Railway Station,

force.” |

and bordering on the Zanjén de la Aguada canal and Circumnavigation Railway. It was an ideal location, which assured him of water for the mill's cooling system, accessible railway transportation to its suppliers and markets, and nearby working-class communities from which to recruit an initial labor

During those first years of establishing his infant industry, Juan Yarur consolidated a set of business relationships that would outlast his lifetime. Internationally, he maintained the links with the Morgan Guaranty Trust and American cotton dealers and machine manufacturers that had served him well in Bolivia.*? The Banco de Chile became his local banker, and through it the Yarurs were able to forge a close relationship with Saavedra Benard, an established distributing firm, which had recently come within the bank’s orbit.”” With the transformation of the Yarur Brothers partnership into a public corporation in 1941, Juan Yarur created further links between

his Arab enterprise and prominent Chileans that would stand his family business in good stead. Its board of directors included Arturo Phillips, general manager of the Banco de Chile, as vice president, as well as other influentials from the interlocking worlds of business and politics.7* Going public, however, neither altered the family character of the business nor lessened Juan Yarur’s control. At bottom, chis legal transformation concentrated che power of decision in the hands of Juan Yarur while protecting the interests of his two brothers, who gradually sold off their shares and used the proceeds to

buy textile mills of their own.” During those early years, Juan Yarur’s principal problem was selling his mill’s expanding production of cotton textiles and yarn. As in Bolivia, consumer resistance to wearing apparel cut from domestic cloth was part of the problem, but che low price of Japanese textiles, which sold in Chile for the price Yarur paid for his raw cotton, was the central dilemma. As in La Paz, Juan Yarur overcame these obstacles with the aid of the state and a timely war. Tariff protection enabled the Yarur mill to meet the Japanese competition after 1939, but it was World War II that made his fortune. For Chile, global conflict might mean scarce foreign exchange, consumer

shortages, and rapid inflation; but for Yarur, the benefits of World War II far outweighed its costs. Pearl Harbor banished his Japanese rivals from the

Palestinians in the Promised Land «19 Chilean market more decisively than any tariff, effectively restricting the market to a small number of domestic producers whose installed capacity was insufficient to keep pace with consumer demand. Conceived in the Great

Depression and born under che sign of the Popular Front, the Yarur mill came of age under the aegis of global conflict.”°

World War II completed what the Great Depression had begun: the transformation of Chile’s industries into the leading sector of its economy. Shortages of imported consumer goods and wartime demand for Chilean copper impelled this industrial surge, but state promotion and protection also played a major role.*’ During the war years, the state emerged as the principal source of investment credit and as the chief risk taker in projects

of uncertain profitability, long gestation, or large initial investment. In addition, policymakers recognized the new centrality—and continued uncompetitiveness—of Chile’s industries in a complex network of governmental

protection and state subsidies, ranging from tariffs and import quotas to multiple exchange rates and cheap dollars for machinery, spare parts, and raw materials. By the war’s close, a Chilean road to industrialization had been constructed, paved by che state and paid for by the consumer in the form of higher prices.”” Among Chile’s cotton mills, Juan Yarur’s was particularly well placed to take advantage of wartime opportunities and governmental policies. The

combination of protected markets and limited domestic competition with its excess Capacity, enterprising management, and financial solidity spelled greatly increased production, sales, and earnings for Yarur, Inc. Between 1941 and 1944, receipts almost tripled while costs only doubled, yielding reported annual net profits that averaged 42 percent despite Yarur's stockpiling of spare parts and building of a sizable reserve fund.” By 1945, the Yarur mill was producing at che limits of its installed Capacity in three round-the-clock shifts and still not meeting consumer demand for its products. During the war, the machinery chat could enable Yarur to satisfy this increased demand was simply not available as American manufacturers retooled for the war effort. In 1944, however, the end of the

conflict was in sight, and the Yarur directors signed contracts for the new machinery that would enable Yarur, Inc., to claim an even larger share of the growing Chilean market despite the expansion of competitors and emergence of new rivals.*°

In the postwar struggle for preeminence, moreover, Yarur, Inc., had one asset that none of its competitors could match—Juan Yarur, a master businessman at the height of his powers. Even his rivals recognized him as “a born entrepreneur,”’' and a Communist labor leader, one of his bitterest antagonists, affirmed: “He was the best business strategist I have ever seen, a true business genius.””*”

20 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State Juan Yarur was not just a “business genius.’’ He was also a shrewd political operator. He had taken pains to build bridges to the dominant political figures of the Right and Center, giving generously to political campaigns in return for congressional allies and governmental access. He had maintained good relations with successive governments of varying political persuasions and had ensured the protection of his firm’s interests. With che election of the aging caudillo, Carlos Ibafiez del Campo, to his second presidency in 1952, che political influence of Juan Yarur and the Arab-

Chilean community reached its zenith. Yarur was an intimate of the new chief executive, for whom the door to the presidential palace was always open.” Juan Yarur did not hesitate to use his political influence to advance his business interests. When Ibafiez’s minister of labor tried to enforce the president’s own labor code at the Yarur mill, he was forced to resign.” When Chile’s foreign exchange difficulties led the Ibafiez government to barter Chilean nitrates for Egyptian cotton and centralize its allocation in a government agency, it made the state the arbiter of textile forcune and the Yarur mill the chief beneficiary of a system that placed a premium on political

pull.** Although not enough raw cotton was imported to meet the requirements of Chile’s textile industries, the Yarur mill often received more than it needed. As a result, Juan Yarur was in a position to sell surplus cotton on the black market and to dictate terms to the smaller mills, which became

totally dependent on Yarur for their own inputs of cotton and yarn. His stranglehold on Chile’s cotton imports was the source of both windfall profits

and a dominant market position. ‘“‘Ruthlessness” was the word that one competitor used to describe Yarur’s business style.*°

Although other textile magnates had more capital and more modern mills, the decade following World War II belonged to Juan Yarur. During these years, he not only emerged as a captain of industry, but as a banker as well. In 1946, Juan Yarur took over the Banco de Crédito e Inversiones, a failing commercial bank founded in 1937 by a group of Italian immigrants to provide credit for small businesses; and, with the help of the Arab community, he transformed it into a highly profitable, but very personal, financial instrument. By 1954, Juan Yarur had erected the twin pillars—the textile mill and bank—on which his family’s economic empire would rest.”’ On August 21, 1954, while driving along fashionable Providencia Avenue, Juan Yarur was stricken by a heart attack. His American sedan spun

out of control and crashed into the curb, where the Arab magnate died unexpectedly at the age of fifty-eight. He left behind a growing economic empire with a solid industrial and financial base. In the end, however, Juan Yarur’s chief legacy may have been his entrepreneurial model. He demonstrated that in an economy that combined

Palestinians in the Promised Land 21 indusctrialization and inflation with tariff protection, import quotas, and price controls, windfall profits could be earned by the shrewd accumulation and sale of raw materials and product inventories. He also showed that the pairing

of an industrial monopoly with a closely controlled bank was the key to economic power in postwar Chile—in combination with the political influence that he cultivated assiduously and wielded shrewdly.

Juan Yarur was a master of all these techniques and strategies. By the time he died, his wealth, genius, and power were proverbial; and Juan Yarur had become a Chilean legend, a Palestinian Horatio Alger who had “made his America” in Santiago.

FATHER AND SONS

Juan Yarur died before he could.complete the creation of the economic empire that he had founded. He lefe behind three adult sons, all of whom had some business experience, but none of whom inherited their father’s combination of entrepreneurial genius and personal charm. In other ways, Juan Yarur’s entrepreneurial legacy was hard for his sons to imitate, yet impossible to ignore. He had branded his business style indelibly on his cotton mill. Juan Yarur held the accounts in his head and his clients in the palm of his hand. He knew every detail of the business and made his deals out of his pocket—the one with the wallet that contained che little pieces

of paper with the business data that only he knew. Within che factory, although “he seemed like just another worker,” his word was law, and his subordinates were totally dependent on his will and favor, without autonomous authority or power of decision. As an expression of Juan Yarur’s personality and a reflection of his talents, this personalistic way of running the factory was fine. As a system of business management, however, ‘it was organized disorganization,” one of his top aides recalled.** Moreover, times had changed. Juan Yarur’s untimely death coincided with the passing of an era in Chile’s economic history. The import substi-

tution boom came to an end with the Korean peace; and che years that followed were shaped by falling copper exports, galloping inflation, and industrial stagnation, the latter a reflection of declining real incomes and eroded

consumer purchasing power.” By 1954, consumer demand no longer exceeded the factory’s output, and the competition for this limited market was

far greater than before. Yarur’s sons inherited a cotton mill of declining profitability that could no longer afford the managerial inefficiencies and low labor productivity of the past.“° This was the view of Jorge Yarur Banna, the most talented of Juan Yarur’s sons, who took over the family business after his father’s death. Ic reflected not only the changed economic realities

22 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State of the Chilean textile industry but also Jorge Yarur’s personality, training,

and experience.” |

“Don Jorge’ was the best businessman of Juan Yarur’s sons and his father’s equal in financial matters, but there the resemblance ended.*” Where

his father was a self-made entrepreneur and personalistic manager, Jorge Yarur was a university-educated lawyer and corporate executive. Don Juan's death gave Jorge Yarur the opportunity to modernize his father’s cotton mill. He was comfortable with professional expertise, aware of the importance of a quality staff and prepared to delegate authority to skilled subordinates.

He was an experienced banker, who had taken courses in business administration introduced recently in Chile from the United States. Jorge Yarur’s model was the modern American corporation that he had studied, and he set out to reshape S.A. Yarur in its image.” Juan Yarur’s death coincided as well with the dawning of the age of the transnational corporation, an expansion epitomized not only by the multiplication of foreign subsidiaries but also by the export of ics example and

the merchandising of its methods. Juan Yarur had always looked to the United States for his technical models and depended heavily on American expertise. In 1956, Jorge Yarur followed his father’s precedent but for radically different purposes. He hired American experts to advise him on the modernization of the family cotton mill, with Price, Waterhouse, the prestigious international accounting firm, acting as management consultants.” At S.A. Yarur, an old-fashioned family firm and factory, their recommendations included the reorganization of both administration and production to improve the efficiency of the former and the productivity of the latter. The methods of the modern American corporation—cost accounting, operations research, computer processing—were introduced for the first time, and the administration of the industry was reorganized. New departments— production planning, industrial engineering, data processing—were created; and Chilean professionals hired and trained to staff them. The structure of decision making was rationalized to improve the flow of information, the delegation of responsibility, and the resolution of problems.” Jorge Yarur’s American consultants identified the low productivity of

labor at the mill as the biggest threat to the profitability of Yarur, Inc., and recommended the Taylor System, with its work norms and time-motion controls, as a remedy for this problem, one that would allow the Yarurs to produce the same amount of cloth and yarn with half the work force—and half the labor costs. Consultants from another American transnational, Burlington Mills, supervised installation of the new system of work beginning in 1962.*° It took three years, $300,000 in consulting fees, and the biggest strike in Yarur’s history; but by 1965 che labor force had been halved and

Palestinians in the Promised Land 23 its productivity more than doubled. With minimal new capital investment, _ che Yarurs had greatly reduced their unit costs while improving the utilization of the firm’s past investment in imported machinery. In the process, a talented group of Chilean technicians had been trained, and the quality of the work force was upgraded. From a management viewpoint, the Taylor System was a brilliant success. *’ On che surface, it appeared as if Juan Yarur’s mill were being transformed utterly, curning its back on his personalistic and paternalistic business style

and embracing instead the American model known in Chile as “rational business administration,” which “was very fashionable at chat time.’*° Appearances were deceiving. It was one thing to replicate on paper the structure

of an impersonal American corporation, but something else to implement it in a family firm run by brothers with disparate talents, differing personalities, divergent business visions—and the same ambition: ‘‘to be what their father had been.’”*” The clash between Jorge and Amador Yarur was not just sibling rivalry,

nor merely a personality conflict or power struggle. At bottom, it was a contest between two entrepreneurial visions and business styles: the personalism of Juan Yarur versus the impersonal corporate model of his middle

son. To Jorge Yarur, his father’s business style was both outmoded and uncongenial, and his own desire for a modernization of management was a business necessity as well as a personal preference; to Amador, his brother's importation of foreign models seemed out of tune with the Chilean character and a betrayal of his father’s legacy, as well as alien to his own personality and incompatible with his talents. Underconfident and ill-educated, Amador Yarur was unprepared to compete with his better-qualified older brother for ascendancy within a modern managerial structure. If S.A. Yarur went the way of the American corporation, there was little doubt who would dominate it. If it remained the personalistic business that Amador had learned at his father’s side, the outcome might be different.”° Whether their struggle was over power or management philosophy, the results were the same—a competition for ascendancy and a conflict of authority that made a mockery of the clear lines of command on the organizational charts. Jorge Yarur was president of the firm; Amador, manager of the mill. “Here in the factory they did not speak to each other,” one senior employee recalled, ‘“‘and many times one gave an order, and the other gave an opposite

order. There was no unity of command.””' Instead, there was a running bactle between che two Yarur brothers and their adherents among the employees. Jorge Yarur placed his trust in “the students,” the score of university graduates who had entered the company recently. They were given special training and responsible positions. Amador Yarur emerged as the champion

24 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State of his father’s veteran employees, who owed their positions more to loyalty than to ability and felt as threatened as Amador himself by the new style of management that Jorge Yarur was trying to impose on Don Juan’s mill.” Amador Yarur might not be able to oppose his brother’s modernizing mission openly, but as manager of the mill he was able to undermine it— and Jorge Yarur’s authority in the process. Alchough the contest for control

of the family textile industry continued for several years, Amador Yarur gradually won the day. Jorge Yarur might be the becter businessman and more powerful personality, but he was too fully engaged at the family bank

to best his brother at daily palace intrigues.”* He remained president of Yarur, Inc., but ‘‘at bottom, it was Amador who ruled here,” one of Jorge’s partisans lamented.” Amador Yarur had no objections to the final stage of his brother’s planned transformation of their father’s mill—an expansion and modernization program that would increase the mill’s productive capacity by 70 percent and replace its antiquated machinery with modern equipment capable of manufacturing the synthetic blends that were increasingly in demand throughout Latin America. The Taylor System’s improvement of productivity made Yarur

the most efficienc cotton mill in Chile, ready and able to dominate the domestic market. At the same time, the prospective formation of a Latin American common market—which filled most Chilean textile manufacturers with a dread of Colombian competition—encouraged the Yarurs to pursue

their expansion plans with vigor.”? With their labor costs halved and operations modernized, the Yarurs were optimistic about their competitive

position and future prospects.

Then, in June 1963, the Yarurs bought W. R. Grace’s Caupolican Textiles, their traditional rival—largely with Yarur, Inc. , capital—and these ambitious plans for the transformation of their father’s mill were postponed. ”° Jorge Yarur withdrew from the contest for control of the Yarur mill and focused his attentions instead on the Caupolican mills, where he could realize his vision of a modern textile industry without having to overcome his brother’s resistance. By the end of 1963, each of the Yarur Banna brothers had his own textile mill.”’

AMADOR’S MILL

As a consequence, the factory that the workers seized in April 1971 was neither Juan’s nor Jorge Yarur’s—it was Amador’s mill. Juan Yarur may have founded it, and Jorge Yarur may have modernized it, but it was Amador

who ruled it, and he stamped it with his own likeness. On the surface, he

Palestinians in the Promised Land 25 combined his father’s legacy with his brother’s changes, but Amador Yarur colored this complex inheritance with his own personality and concerns. In 1971 most of Amador’s mill seemed similar to the factory that his father had built in 1936 and expanded a decade later. The imposing twostory administration building, with its neoclassic facade, marbled hallways, and monogrammed glass still displayed its now dated elegance, with only the presence of a computer and a few air conditioners to mar its period-piece air. Ic overlooked and contrasted with the nondescript factory buildings, with their functional grays and greens. The sprawling production plant still looked the same, its lack of air-conditioning betrayed by the noise, humid heat, and cotton dust that filled the enormous weaving and spinning rooms. Much of the machinery was also the same, antiquated equipment whose life had been extended by periodic overhauls. But even the names on the new machines revealed that che Yarur mill still depended on foreign technology, as well as on imported raw materials. There were some changes of significance. In a closed room off the spinning section was a laboratory that exercised a quality control absent in Juan Yarur’s

day, part of the changes made by the American efficiency experts who had overseen the rationalization of production methods during the preceding decade. The most visible physical change, however, lay across Avenida Club Hipico from the administration building. Where Juan Yarur’s old sports

stadium had once been, a new finishing plant now stood. Completed in 1969, it was an impressively modern building with air-conditioning and the lacesc American equipment. Equally evident, but less impressive, was its idle and underutilized machinery, a reflection of the new plant’s capacity

produce. |

to finish 13 million meters (27 percent) more cloth than the Yarur mill

could weave. Also questionable was the purchase of expensive new equipment

designed to process the polyester weaves that the rest of the mill could not The explanation for this seeming irrationality lay in che Yarur drive for

control of the cotton industry, which had led them to take over W. R. Grace’s Caupolican mills in 1963. During the years that followed, the money that should have been invested in the expansion and modernization of Amador’s Santiago mill flowed south instead in a misguided effort to transform Jorge’s Caupolican Chiguayante factory. As a consequence, the planned expansion and modernization of the Yarur mill remained impressive on paper,

but delayed in practice and incoherent in execution. Amador Yarur talked of buying modern shuttleless looms, but with consumer demand stagnant, inflation accelerating, and profits falling, the imbalance between weaving and finishing sections seemed likely to continue for the foreseeable future. As a

result, in 1971, Amador’s mill spun and wove the same pure cotton yarn

26 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State and cloth that his father had produced in 1937 and with technologies as outdated as the machinery.” The financial position of the enterprise that the workers wanted socialized

in 1971 seemed equally problematic. The ability of the Yarur mill to sell

its products in an era of slackening demand and tight credit remained striking. As the annual reports stressed, Yarur retained the loyalty of its clientele, in part because it enjoyed a virtual monopoly of the cheaper cotton goods with assured markets—overalls for workers, sacks for flour mills, sheets for hospitals, denims for jeans, and flannels for the armed forces—in part because of its known quality and shrewd advertising. In real terms, however, the reported value of Yarur sales decreased by one-quarter between 1964 and 1970, a drop that was reflected in a declining profit rate that fell below 3

percent in 1970.” As a consequence, Yarur, Inc., was forced to borrow increasingly after 1966, and, by 1970, it owed sums equal to 60 percent of its capital plus reserves. By 1971, the Yarur mill was reporting only enough earnings to cover current expenses and seemed incapable of meeting its rising debt payments without additional loans from the family’s Banco de Crédito, which already held more chan three-quarters of the textile firm’s domestic debr.% Amador Yarur blamed his enterprise’s financial difficulties on government

price controls in an era of escalating costs, a complaint echoed by other textile entrepreneurs.°’ But government experts suggested that these calculations were more self-interested than accurate, and political leaders suspected “the textile monopoly” of fixing prices and speculating on the black marker.©’ Although government investigators early in 1971 concurred with Amador Yarut’s conclusion that a hefty price rise—or new loan—was needed to keep S.A. Yarur solvent, they blamed its declining profitabilicy on inflated Operating costs and onerous sales commissions. Subsequent investigations revealed alleged overinvoicing of imports, use of fictitious suppliers, tax evasion through the transfer of shares to dummy foreign corporations, the abuse of preferential foreign exchange rates, and illegal foreign loans. The payment of “excessive commissions” to distributors linked to the Yarurs was yet another practice alleged by government investigators to typify the milking of the public corporation for private purposes.°* Suspicions that all was not what it seemed at Yarur, Inc., were heightened by the refusal of Amador Yarur to permit an outside audit or to comply with generally accepted rules

of accounting.” The real “profits of this industry,” the head of the Data Processing Department concluded from his own calculations, “were different from the annual reports.”°* S.A. Yarur might be a public corporation with

thousands of shareholders, but in 1971 it seemed to be run in the private interests of the Yarur family. Although efforts to cover questionable financial practices may have played

Palestinians in the Promised Land 27 a major role in the peculiar way S.A. Yarur was managed, so did Amador Yarur’s character. Insecure and suspicious, Amador distrusted the technically skilled, better-educated employees and valued loyalty above competence in

his subordinates. The result was a personalistic management that concentrated power and decision making in the hands of Amador Yarur, whose rulings often seemed arbitrary and capricious. It was a style that demoralized the industry's best employees while turning the rest into servile instruments

of Don Amador’s will, sycophants who held their positions more through favoritism than competence and responded with unquestioning obedience— and indecisive administration. Amador Yarur may have accepted the existence of the new professional departments mandated by the Burlington and Price,

Waterhouse modernization plans, but he tried to control their activities and

limit their purview.” In 1970, therefore, the Yarur mill presented a paradoxical picture, one in which che anachronistic and the contemporary, efficiency and irrationality, coexisted uneasily side by side.°’ Yet, despite these paradoxes and problems, Amador’s mill remained Chile's principal cotton textile industry, producing as much as one-third of the nation’s cotton yarn and cloth. By 1971, it had consolidated a virtual monopoly over the less expensive lines of pure cotton

goods while maintaining its strong position as a supplier of cotton yarn toche country’s many knitting mills. The factory that the workers seized on April 25, 1971, was both a strategic industry and an economic force to be reckoned with.

AN EMPIRE OF PAPER AND CLOTH

By 1971, moreover, the Yarur factory was not just an isolated cotton mill. It was also a vital part of one of Chile’s largest and most powerful economic empires—an empire built on paper money and woven of cotton cloth. Juan Yarur had begun its creation in 1946, when he used his textile mill’s wartime profits to acquire the Banco de Crédito e Inversiones, but he died before he could complete the task. As a result, it was Jorge Yarur who built this empire, constructing it around the textile mill his father had founded, the bank that he had acquired, and the family holding company that the Yarur Banna brothers had created to administer their joint inheritance. By 1954, the Yarur mill was already “the principal textile industry in the country.” During the next decade its resources were used to acquire three other textile plants, including those of its chief competitor.” During this same decade, Empresas Juan Yarur (Juan Yarur Enterprises) was transformed from a passive family trust into an ag-

28 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State gressive investment company, whose growing portfolio reflected the expansion of Yarur holdings.’° The Banco de Crédito e Inversiones became the motor and balance wheel

of this enlarged family economic empire, and it was there that Jorge Yarur concentrated his talents and time. A banker by temperament, Jorge Yarur proved the perfect person to construct and consolidate a Yarur economic empire during an era in which Chile’s industries were stagnating and its economy was being divided among powerful “clans,” each with its own bank.’ In his capable, if ruthless hands, the Banco de Crédito was transformed from a modest commercial bank catering to the needs of smal! business into a powerful financial instrument of family economic empire. ‘““We made the bank,” he boasted later.’* Don Jorge also converted it into a Yarur milch

cow, a source of personal profits, venture capital, and loans for the Yarur family and its proliferating enterprises. The Banco de Crédito not only advanced the Yarurs and their companies large sums but also invested its funds directly in these ventures, purchasing large blocs of shares, which the depositors and shareholders of the bank financed but the Yarurs controlled. Jorge Yarur used every legal means—-and some that were dubious—to maximize the bank’s assets and channel them into the coffers of the Yarur textile enterprises, several of which were in need of continual capital infusions

during the 1960s. In some years, more than three-quarters of the Banco de Crédito’s loans went to family members and enterprises, often at less than the normal bank rate and with no pressure for repayment.”* It was this ability ‘to mobilize other people’s savings for Yarur purposes on a vast scale that made the Banco de Crédito so valuable an instrument of economic empire. “It was sure financing,” one former bank inspector explained wryly.”* By 1960, the Yarurs were already ranked among the eleven financial “clans” that dominated the Chilean economy. A decade later, they had moved

up on that very short list alchough they were still a rung below the top three. Unlike most of Chile’s leading economic groups, whose diversification

of investments was striking, the Yarur holdings were concentrated in two sectors—finance and textiles.” In the financial sector, the Yarur Banna brothers controlled the Banco de Crédito e Inversiones and the Banco Llanquihue de Puerto Montt, which together formed the second largest private bank in Chile in assets, deposits, and investments. They also controlled an auxiliary financial group that included a major savings and loan association, two large investment companies, and four insurance companies. ”° The Yarur economic empire had been founded on textiles, and the textile

sector remained its greatest strength. By 1970, the Yarurs had secured the ascendancy over the cotton textile industry that they had sought since the founding of the Yarur mill in 1937. Between the Yarur and the Caupolican

Palestinians in the Promised Land 29 Chiguayante mills, they virtually monopolized the production of cheaper ~ cotton goods while carving out a significant share of the more expensive lines as well. Wich che Caupolican Renca plant, che Yarurs claimed a sizable share of the growing market in cotton-synthetic weaves, and the acquisition of Quimica Industrial gave them their own source of polyester fibers. Their links with Saavedra Benard, Distribuidora Talca, and Luis Portaluz—Jorge

Yarur was vice president of the first, the second was controlled by Arab entrepreneurs who were close to the Yarurs, and the third was a totally dependent subcontractor of Juan Yarur Enterprises—brought their leading distributors within their orbit. The chain of Yarur retail outlets completed the picture of vertical integration—from the fiber to the consumer.”’ The cotton textile enterprises of the Yarur Banna brothers, moreover, were complemented by the woolen mills controlled by the junior branches of the family—the Yarur Kazakias and Yarur Asfuras, the children of Juan Yarur’s younger brothers. Through Texeil Progreso, Fabrilana, Bellavista Tomé and FIAP-Tomé, the Yarurs claimed a major share of Chile’s woolens

industry, including the popular synthetic blends.’’ In addition, through interlocking directorates and bank loans, the Yarurs had acquired influence in Textil Vina, an old rival noted for high-quality cotton goods; in Sedamar, the manufacturer of the best-quality artificial silk in Chile; and in Chiteco’s knit goods business. Through ownership or influence, the Yarurs sat on the boards of directors of five of Chile’s fifteen largest textile enterprises and were linked by interlocking directorates with eight others.’ They had also consolidated a dom-

inant role in the Instituto Textil de Chile (INCHITEX), the industry's business association, which Jorge Yarur had founded in 1963 and then presided over."°’By 1970, the Yarurs were the ascendant economic group within an industry that was so highly oligopolistic that ic was the example chosen by economists to illustrate the increasing concentration of ownership

in Chile.*! :

The Chilean textile industry was not only concentrated in a few hands; it was heavily concentrated in Arab hands. About 80 percent of cotton textile production, for example, was controlled by three families who traced their

origins to the Bethlehem region of Palestine. In 1970 they divided the Chilean market and cooperated more than they competed with each other. As one Christian Democratic deputy affirmed, during a 1966 congressional debate on textile price-fixing: “It might not be a formal monopoly that they have organized, but it is a monopoly in fact.’ This informal monopoly was facilitated by ethnic ties and social links. The Yarur ascendancy within the Chilean textile industry was paralleled by their community leadership. “The Yarur group is the most important group of the Arab community,” concluded a knowledgeable study of the Arab

30 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State economic role in Chile, “both for ics economic power and for serving as the ‘guide’ for the activities of the other entrepreneurs.””* The Yarurs were the first to found a modern textile industry, the first to use that industry as the base for acquiring a bank, the first to use their bank as an agency of capital formation for takeovers of other textile industries, the first to extend that

control to their distributors, and the first co introduce the Taylor System into their mills. The other major Arab entrepreneurs—Hirmas, Sumar, and Said—followed the Yarur lead alchough none were able to attain the latter’s level of wealth and power. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.

The Yarurs had come a long way from their trinket shop in the liccle town of Bethlehem. They had found their promised land some 9000 miles from their native Palestine. By 1971, their wealth had become so proverbial chac ‘‘rich as Yarur’” had become a common Chilean saying. Although the true extent of their personal fortunes was unknown, it was generally assumed that they were among the largest in Chile. The Yarurs’ wealth had also become more visible. Juan Yarur preferred

to live simply, residing in an unpretentious house and driving his own Chevrolet. The contrast with his sons was striking. The Yarur Bannas lived

in a manner that advertised their wealth and asserted their status, a style that became synonymous with ostentation and luxury—although to many among the Chilean elite it merely confirmed their distaste for these txrco parvenus. The popular press celebrated the life-style that expressed this wealth, but also hinted at its immorality and “Oriental” decadence. In the end, their wealth created more envy than admiration, but it did purchase the Yarur Bannas access to the corridors of power. Juan Yarur had learned early in his Latin American career that political influence was the key to economic success. His sons continued his policy of

contributing generously to the major parties and politicians of the Right and the Center and of cultivating close relations with political leaders and state bureaucrats. Influential Chileans enjoyed their table and sat on their boards of directors. The Yarur radio station, Radio Balmaceda, boosted political careers with its endorsements. The sizable advertising budgets of the Yarur enterprises enabled their owners to influence the editorial policies of major newspapers and magazines.”

The Yarur goal was to ensure privileged access to policymakers and implementers no matter which president ruled or which party governed. Politicians and civil servants who enjoyed Yarur largesse rewarded their generosity by looking after their interests. Jorge and Amador Yarur may have lacked their father’s charisma, but they possessed resources and connections that made them powerful players in Chile’s political game, and they were usually able cto get their way. The Yarurs were powerful because they

Palestinians in the Promised Land 31 were rich, and they were feared because everyone knew chat they were willing

to use both wealch and power ruthlessly to advance their interests.

When the workers seized the Yarur mill in April 1971, they were confronting not just the diminutive boss of an aging cotton mill, but one of Chile’s wealchiest and most powerful families as well. The temerity of their challenge did not escape them. Since the factory was founded in 1937, the Yarurs had crushed all efforts to organize an independent union. It was a history that formed part of the collective memory of the Yarur workers who seized their factory on that April Sunday, as well as one that many of

those who stood guard around the Yarur mill that night had “lived in the flesh.””””

THE MAKING OF THE OLD-TIMERS

On the morning of April 25, 1971, the Yarur workers held an unprecedented union assembly. Unanimous in its conclusions, this meeting soon led to the seizure and socialization of the Yarur mill. Yet this apparent unanimity was deceptive. Among the 1500 Yarur blue-collar workers who packed the nearby C.I.C. union hall on that fateful Sunday were many who did not favor caking over the mill and still others who understood the actions they had voted for

differently from the young union leaders. These divergent positions and perceptions expressed differences in consciousness, which, in turn, reflected differences in origin, age, upbringing, and experience. The Yarur workers might seem to speak with one voice, but the reality was more complex. In 1971 there were two groups of workers at the Yarur mill—the Oldtimers (viejos) and the Youngsters (yévenes)—labels that reflected different gen-

erations of experience. The Youngsters knew only Amador’s mill and the Taylor System, whereas most Old-timers remembered Juan Yarur and a less demanding system of work. All the Old-timers were survivors of the 1962 strike, and many of them had lived through one or more of the earlier worker movements at the mill; che Youngsters had never experienced a labor conflict with the Yarurs. Even a category such as “Old-timer” obscured importance differences. Some of the Old-timers had been at the factory since it first opened in 1937; others had entered it during the postwar expansion or the last years of Juan Yarur’s life. Even where they had experienced the same labor struggles, they had often been on opposite sides of the conflict and drawn different lessons from it. Yet, despite these differences and the unique individuals they produced, most of the Old-timers had shared and been shaped by salient common experiences. 32

The Making of the Old-timers 33 DON JUAN’S PEOPLE

The Old-timers of 1971 were all survivors—of the Yarurs’ repressive paternalism, of the Taylor System, and of the successive defeats suffered by worker movements at the Yarur mill. For the most part, the Old-timers were Juan Yarur’s “‘people.”” Many of them had been recruited by him personally, an experience they still remembered. '

Although youth and height, “a more or less good appearance,” and parental permission were requisites for a job at his mill, that was not all Juan Yarur “was looking for.”” He wanted a malleable and loyal labor force that could be shaped into a disciplined and obedient instrument of production and would be receptive to the paternalistic style of labor relations he had

perfected in Bolivia. In La Paz, the solution had been co recruit illiterate Indian women fresh from the countryside. In Santiago, Juan Yarur sought their functional Chilean equivalent in teenage girls from the families of recent rural migrants, who were expected to embrace a model of labor relations similar to that of landlord and peasant, in which the omnipotent but benevolent patron conferred a special relationship on his dependent work force in return for their unquestioned loyalty and hard work for long hours at low pay.” As Maria Lopez, who entered the factory as a teenager from the rural south a few years after it opened, recalled: “If you were young and passed your health exams and if you seemed like a good sort of person they cook you immediately, but especially if you were from the south of Chile, because they said that people from the south were hard workers, very honest, and loyal to their patron.’

Although most of the mill’s initial work force of one thousand was recruited among the teenage girls of the surrounding neighborhoods, increasingly the children of southern peasants and Mapuche indians joined their ranks. In a country with accelerating rural migration and chronic high unemployment, there were always applicants for a steady factory job.” Generally, preference was given to relatives or friends of Yarur workers, which reinforced the image of the industry as an extended family linked by reciprocal

bonds of favor and obligation, or else to rural migrants who arrived at the factory gates with a scrawled reference from some local notable, who vouched

for their good character and conduct. In both cases, the new workers would be bound to good behavior by a sense of personal obligation to the person who had recommended them, as well as by their new loyalty to the patréin who had given them a job.° The new workers were introduced to the unfamiliar rhythms and routines of factory work by experienced machine operators or by one of the foreign technicians whom Juan Yarur favored, whose main task was finding the right

34 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State job for new workers and winnowing out unsuitable ones. Those who remained had to adjust to long hours of monotonous work—twelve hours a day at

first, eight hours a day after 1941—in the hot and humid mill, with the noise of the machines deafening their eardrums and the cotton dust filling their lungs.’ Still, years later Old-timers recalled their work at Juan Yarur’s factory with a fondness absent from their feelings about their labors at Amador’s mill. Alchough nostalgia for their youth probably played a part, there were also more solid reasons for these positive memories. By the standards of the day, the Yarur mill was modern, yet there was little pressure to produce, as neither foremen nor machine operators received incentive pay, and costs could be passed on to the consumer.” Most of the labor force were teenagers who worked to help support their frequently large families and who were grateful for the opportunity to earn a regular wage. Yarur workers also valued their posts because they had “a steady job” that paid them “‘all year round; the factory never closed.””” Moreover, alchough the wages were low and there were few fringe benefits, the pay at the Yarur mill was better chan domestic

service, the only other job available to the uneducated lower-class women who comprised the majority of the labor force. Besides, stressed Blanca Bascufian, “You had much more liberty here than as a domestic servant... . who is often little more than a slave.”’® For most of them, teenagers who lived at home, it was also a liberation from the supervision and isolation of their families. “We were all young girls,” recalled Rosa Ramos, ‘‘and there was so much companerismo in those days.”'' Juan Yarur’s mill was a social center as well as a workplace. Young men worked alongside them, and many workers found their mates as well as their friends at the mill. There were workers for whom their “plain wage” with “no fringe benefits, not even overalls,”’ did not suffice and who remembered their work in Juan

Yarur’s mill as “very hard.”* Yet even a worker such as Alicia Navarrete, the sole support of seven younger siblings, who maintained that the wages he paid her were “a misery” and that she was “exploited,” remembered Juan Yarur fondly.'’ “In reality, he was a good man, Don Juan,” her friend Blanca Bascufian recalled with a smile. “I am not going to deny his merits. He was very fond of the Old-timers, very fond.” To the Old-timers, Juan Yarur was every inch che paternalistic patrén, an omnipotent but benevolent boss with whom each had a special personal relationship. It was an image that Don Juan cultivated with care. Each day he toured the factory, stopping to talk with one worker, to pat another on

the back, to enquire about che family of a third. As he passed, workers could approach their patrén with special requests—for time off, for a loan, for a change of work section. Juan Yarur never refused these requests, always

The Making of the Old-timers 35 turning to the supervisor or personnel chief and audibly telling him co grant it, alchough he might later countermand chat order. Nor did he ever punish or fire a worker himself, leaving such tasks to his subordinates and seeming sympathetic if the worker appealed to him to reverse the decision.'> As a

result, workers saw him as the “good patrén” whereas the supervisor or personnel manager who executed Yarur’s orders was viewed as the ‘‘the bad

guy of the picture.” This sense of a special relationship was reinforced by special treatment. Don Juan would leave a “client or friend . . . to attend to a worker,” one of his closest collaborators recalled. “Direct treatment was his style.’"'’ So was apparent generosity in a worker's time of need, ranging from advances against

their wages to time off without pay. At Christmas, he gave the workers presents of shoes for their children.'* After World War II, he also “gave” them company housing, in the Poblacién Juan Yarur, although in reality he was merely fulfilling a law requiring every industry to invest a certain percentage of their profits in housing for their workers.'? For those bluecollar workers (obreros) who were in his favor, there was also the plum of getting friends and relatives jobs at the mill and the dream that cheir loyalty would one day be rewarded by promotion to employee (empleado) status, with its additional material benefits and social prestige.“° In addition, pretty women workers could aspire to a very special rela-

tionship with Don Juan, who “was very Arab in his ways” and “had his harem here in the factory,” whose members were rewarded with presents and the best work assignments, as well as the prestige of being ‘“‘Don Juan’s querida,”’ ot mistress.”' Generally, the women who graced this harem had

been chosen as factory ‘Spring Queens” at one of the two annual festivals that Juan Yarur celebrated with his workers—the other being his saint’s day. These ritual acts of shared celebration both symbolized and reinforced his paternalistic image in the eyes of the workers, as well as their sense that they enjoyed a special relationship with him. Juan Yarur not only gave them a party, but “came and danced and drank, just like us.””? As one worker put it: “Together with him we were content.””* It was no accident that many Old-timers identified with their querido patroncito—(‘‘dear little boss’)—rather chan with their co-workers. “For me Juan Yarur was the prototype of paternalism. He had a paternalistic system that was very well worked out, and he knew how to carry himself with the personnel,” one of his close collaborators in that system _ concluded. “As a result, he always could solve the labor conflicts on his terms

because he always had the support of certain sectors of workers in the industry.””* A strategy of divide and conquer was the underside of paternalism’s

organic unity of patrén and worker. At bottom, the purpose behind Juan Yarur’s system of recruitment, socialization, and social control was to create

36 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State a labor force composed of apatronados—'‘the boss’s people’’—who chose loy-

alty to their patrén over solidarity with their companeros and believed that “good understanding ought to reign between Capital and Labor,” whose natural harmony of interests reflected their complementary economic roles.” Typical of these apatronados was José Lagos, who as a teenager was hired

personally by Juan Yarur in 1937. “When my father left me at the factory gate that first day,’’ Lagos recalled, “he turned to me and said: ‘Son, Juan Yarur is a clever man and a good patrén. Always be loyal to him and you

will never go wrong.’ I never forgot his words.”"° When Yarur’s “paternalistic system” proved insufficient to prevent a majority of his workers from wanting an independent union, as in 1939, Don Juan showed the repressive side of his paternalism. During 1939 and 1940, one-fifth of the blue-collar workers were fired on one pretext or another although those who went to him repentant were later hired back on condition

that they “behaved and not get involved ever again in these things.””’ As a way of combatting the union, Juan Yarur formed the “Mutual Juan Yarur,” an ostensibly autonomous mutual aid association run by company employees, which workers were pressed to join or risk losing their jobs. Once his loyalists controlled the union, he allowed the mutual to fade away and embraced the

union whose formation he had opposed so fiercely, transforming it into a “yellow” (company) union, which occupied the legal space of the independent blue-collar union but served an opposite function—social control instead of class representation.

When the emergence of a new and more powerful workers’ movement in 1946 and 1947 demonstrated chat neither the attractions of paternalism nor the moribund company union were enough to keep an independent union from his factory’s gate, Juan Yarur responded with even more drastic measures. Once again, suspect workers were purged—and this time they were not taken back. In choosing their replacements—and the new workers recruited as part of the postwar doubling of the expanded factory’s labor force— |

Juan Yarur put a heavier stress on screening for the characteristics that he thought made for loyal workers. This time, moreover, the system of social control was made more comprehensive and more repressive. A network of informers composed of Yarur loyalists was established in both the work sections and the new company housing to spy on their co-workers so that “‘disloyalty’’ could be detected and dealt with before a new workers’ movement could be formed. The serenos (watchmen) were transformed into a company political police who spied on

“suspicious gatherings” and filed reports on suspect workers. The mutual was revived and made a test of worker loyalty and che agency for the allocation

of welfare benefits. These were measures that largely transformed the atmosphere at the Yarur mill. The relaxed days of optimistic paternalism

The Making of the Old-timers 37 were gone forever, replaced by a system of social control that Juan Yarur hoped would be proof to the growing class consciousness and radical politics —

of Chile’s workers. “It was then that fear entered the factory,” one Oldtimer recalled.” Juan Yarur’s more pervasive system of social control made its mark, but what the Old-timers remembered most was the initiation ceremony required for joining the mutual, a precondition for getting and keeping a job at the Yarur mill. Abouc a month after Luz Castro entered the Yarur mill in 1948, she and ten of her co-workers were called out of the spinning section and told that ‘we had to go and swear.’’ A Yarur employee then led them down to a darkened room in the basement of the administration building, where they found ‘Padre’ Concha, a Yarur employee dressed as a priest, and parallel

lines of male and female workers waiting to take their oath. “On a table they had put a black cloth and on top of the black cloth was Our Lord crucified on a cross and below the Christ was a skull,” she recalled. ‘So we had to sit down or stop in front of the table and put our hands on the cable and the little Padre Concha made us swear.” If the setting was an odd one for initiation into a mutual aid association, the oath that the pseudopriest administered was stranger still: “In che first place they made me swear that I would be faithful to the bosses, not to participate in anything against the boss, neither politics, nor unions... and we all had co say: ‘I swear by God and by this banner!’ ’””

Although the more sophisticated workers did not take seriously what chey considered a bizarre “Oriental rite,’ even they affirmed that among the ill-educated rural migrants who entered the factory in large numbers at this time, there were ‘‘many people who because of it preferred to leave the mill rather than betray Don Juan.”*° Bogus or real, effective or not, “the calavera”’ (crucifixion) as it was known among the workers, came to symbolize Juan Yarur's increasingly repressive paternalism and underscored the lengths to which he was prepared to go to prevent “his” workers from organizing che independent union that might challenge his social hegemony.*'

WORKER MOVEMENTS, YARUR MEASURES

Yet, despite the attractions and punishments of Don Juan’s paternalistic system, again and again a majority of “his” workers tried to organize a union independent of company control. There were several reasons why Juan Yarur’s

“well worked out... paternalistic system’’** didn’t always work well, and at the Yarur mill they were mutually reinforcing. Chile was a country where the law of the land legitimated union organization, and workers were heirs to a long tradition of class struggle and labor organization linked to political

38 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State parties of the Left. The workers who formed the first Yarur union back in 1939 were political innocents, but they took for granted that it was “our right to have a union to defend us.”** Even a seeming apatronada, such as Isabél Torres, who never took part in the worker movements at the mill, was embarrassed “that here the union was run by the bosses.’ Within this context, the only way for Juan Yarur to sustain a rigidly anti-union posture was to keep his workers isolated from the class culture and politics swirling around them. That was the intent of Juan Yarur’s policies of selective recruitment and social control, but it proved impossible to enforce. In part, this was because his recruiting principles and screening procedures were not foolproof. Reinaldo Jara might have been ‘‘a cowboy from Angol,” a backward rural southern province, and thus a perfect candidate for the Yarur mill; but the future leader of the 1947 Yarur workers’ movement had been converted:to communism during the Great Depression by some unemployed miners whom he met in the mountains before migrating

to Santiago.” Juan Yarur understood that the tide of rural migration chat was engorging Chile’s cities was also a migration of consciousness, but this migration was more complex than his recruiting strategy allowed. Many of the sons and daughters of peasants who arrived at the Yarur gates in search | of work were not what they seemed, even where, like Laura Corufia, a Yarur “favorite” who “betrayed him” in joining a workers’ movement, they came from families with a history of conservative politics. “What good did it do my father to be loyal to the patrén?” she had concluded from her family’s poverty. “One must be loyal to one’s own class.”*°

But even many of the peasant children who arrived in Santiago with little working-class consciousness and less political awareness soon lost their innocence. Although few were educated, most were literate enough to read the leftist and labor press. Even more influential in reshaping their attitudes and assumptions was the rich oral tradition around them. Juan Yarur might limit what co-workers would dare say to new recruits, but from their friends and neighbors they learned about the new world they had entered and were

initiated into the culture of the class that they aspired to join. Juan Yarur might place his company housing under surveillance, but the Poblacién Yarur housed less chan 10 percent of che factory’s obreros. The

rest lived in working-class communities beyond Juan Yarur’s control—in the inner city’s decaying one-room conventillos or cell-like cités, or else in the new suburban squatter settlements, the rent-free ca/lampas (wild mushrooms),

which sprang up overnight on vacant lots, such as “La Victoria” in nearby San Miguel. The experience of living in such a community, with its class culture and populist politics—as well as its continuing struggle for electricity, running water, and other public services—produced a different mindset from that which Juan Yarur wanted his workers to have.”’

The Making of the Old-timers 39 Alchough the working class world in which they lived encouraged many

of his workers to favor a union of their own, their experience within the factory where they spent their days often reinforced that predisposition. Juan Yarur might seem a benevolent patrén who never punished “his people,” but that was because he delegated the enforcement of discipline and social control to his subordinates, who often ‘were very tyrannical.’”*’ In Juan Yarur’s

system, the Jefe became a petty despot whose arbitrary power to punish workers by abusing them, transferring them to a less desirable job, or getting them suspended or fired for real or imagined failings left the workers feeling vulnerable and powerless. The worst threat of all was ‘‘to be sent to Welfare’ to see Daniel Fuenzalida, the martinet personnel and welfare chief, who was widely regarded as ‘the worst man that ever was in the industry.” To the vulnerable workers,

Fuenzalida ‘“‘was the king of the factory ...and all the people trembled before him.” As a result, “when they saw that another companera had a problem, they didn’t try to defend her.”*’ In reality, Fuenzalida was Juan Yarur’s hatchet man, who fired workers and denied the requests that Yarur had ostensibly approved, “because a patrén never wants to appear bad in front of his people,” an apatronado leader explained.*° Most workers did not realize that Yarur and Fuenzalida were “a combination,” allowing Don Juan to have

his benevolent image and yet keep his strict social control too.*’ But the workers were fully aware of feeling anxious, angry, and impotent in the face of the arbitrary abuses of his subordinates. The response of many workers to the repressive side of Juan Yarur’s paternalistic system of social control

was to believe chat “we needed a union to protect us.” “Buc the most important problem was the economic problem,’ stressed Reinaldo Jara, who in 1947 organized the most powerful challenge to Juan Yarur’s system of social control that the mill owner ever confronted. ‘“Yarur wages were very low—not by comparison with other textile industries, they were all badly paid—but by comparison with the cost of living.’*? During the decade of the 1940s, Chile experienced an inflation of more than 400 percent whereas the price of necessities rose even more sharply. Blue-collar

wages did not keep pace, and many Yarur workers found it increasingly hard to make ends meet, particularly if they had families to support. The inadequate wages of Yarur workers were reflected in impoverished living conditions, which were typical of the Chilean working class during this era.“* The Yarur workers whom Reinaldo Jara knew lived in partitioned one-room

shacks and survived on a diet of bread, beans, pasta, and cazuela, a soupy stew with a potato and onions. They could not afford to pay a doctor, dress their children decently, or educate them well.** Nor did they have confidence that che future would be any better. On the contrary, their real wages seemed to drop with each year’s raise.*°

40 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State In view of such working and living conditions, worldview, and expectations, if was not surprising that, despite Juan Yarur’s best efforts, most of his workers wanted to have an independent union to represent them and were prepared to support a “free union” movement if they thought that it could succeed. But given cheir belief in the omnipotence of their boss, they had to be persuaded that they would enjoy the outside help chat would redress the imbalance of power between Juan Yarur and themselves. Although

the support of other labor organizations, particularly the national textile workers federation (FENATEX) and the Confederation of Chilean Workers (CTCh) or Central Unica de Trabajadores (CUT), was essential, it was insufficient in itself to allay worker fears. The central role in labor relations that Chilean labor legislation gave to the state meant that workers had to believe chat their efforts would also enjoy state support.” Significantly, the three workers’ movements that confronted Juan Yarur with demands for an independent union and authentic collective bargaining followed national elections of presidents—Pedro Aguirre Cerda in 1938, Gabriel Gonzalez Videla in 1946, and Carlos Ibafiez del Campo in 1952—

who were supported by coalitions that included leftist parties and whose governments were expected to be prolabor and sympathetic to popular move-

ments. Whenever the Yarur workers perceived an opening co the Left nationally, they tried to take advantage of the political moment to challenge che social politics of the Yarur mill. The result was a series of intense social struggles that indelibly marked the Old-timers of 197 1—and shaped Amador Yarur’s attitudes on how to handle worker challenges as well. The three workers’ movements that broke the paternalist peace of Juan Yarur’s mill had different origins, politics, and characters, as well as differing dynamics, plots, and dramatics. Yet, despite these differences of detail, chey followed the same course. It was a pattern that was set in the very first conflict

becween Juan Yarur and his workers—the workers’ attempt to organize a union during 1939 and 1940—and it was repeated with variations in the years 1946-47 and 1952-53. All chree movements were organized from below by Yarur workers, but with the advice and assistance of national labor unions. Although the movements themselves were nonpartisan, their leaders were more political—rang-

ing from “some kind of socialists’** in 1939 and 1940 to Communist in the years 1946-47 and Popular Socialist in the 1952-53 period. Each had unique demands, such as the elimination of the night shift for women workers

in 1939 and the firing of the company police chief in 1953,* but they all shared a common goal: to secure the authentic union representation and collective bargaining that were their legal rights under the Chilean Labor Code, which the first Yarur union president called “one of the social conquests won by the working class through bloody combats.”’”®°

The Making of the Old-timers 41 Initially, these movements received the state support that they expected and “with the aid of the Labor authorities”’' were able to secure the union balloting that chey sought. In the years 1939-40 and 1946—47, they were even able to elect insurgent slates to union office. They then pressed for the collective bargaining that would constitute company recognition and the fruits of their victory. But Juan Yarur would not accept defeat or allow “‘anyone to tell him how to run his industry.””’ Faced with an independent union leadership, he responded by denying their legitimacy, intimidating their supporters with firings and strong-arm squads, and stonewalling cheir efforts to win a contract with the increases in wages and benefits chat would consolidate their position and demonstrate the value of an independent union to their rank

and file. At the same time, Don Juan created a parallel organization, the infamous Mutual Juan Yarur, to divide the workers and undermine the union, offering increases in wages and benefits to workers who joined his mutual aid association and threatening to dismiss those who refused. ”’

Confronted with this Yarur intransigence and counterattack, the union leaders invoked state mediation on the advice of their mentors in the national

labor movement. When the state Conciliation Board failed to break the deadlock, the workers took the steps allowed them under the Labor Code. In 1939 they went on strike for a fortnight and then accepted binding governmental arbitration. In 1947 a formal flaw in their procedures prevented the union leaders from securing the “legal strike” they sought and persuaded

them to accept state arbitration instead. It made little difference to the outcome, which was the same in both cases: an arbitration award that granted the workers a part of their wage demands but denied them the job security

and independent union leadership they sought.” While the workers’ movement was preoccupied with the complex legal formalities of the Labor Code, Juan Yarur was using his wealth to secure “the collaboration” of venal state labor inspectors and his political influence to block governmental enforcement of the workers’ rights under Chile’s labor laws.” After the “resolution” of these conflicts, governments that were moving to che Right nationally failed to protect union activists from dismissal or to prevent the bribing of some worker leaders and the ouster of the remaining insurgent officers in elections that made a mockery of the labor laws. Within

twelve to sixteen months of their initial “victories,” both insurgent movements had gone down to defeat, and the paternalistic peace of unquestioned company control was restored to the Yarur mill. The 1952—53 movement did not even get that far. When Clodomiro Almeyda, the Socialist labor minister, refused to accede to Juan Yarur’s demands that the union balloting be held within the factory and be supervised

by state labor inspectors that he would name, Yarur used his political pull with his intimate friend President Carlos Ibafiez to oust Almeyda and his

42 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State top aides.” Under Almeyda’s successor, the promised elections were never held, and the firing and intimidation of dissident workers were ignored. Beyond the differences between the three movements was their common fate: All three failed to survive Juan Yarur’s attacks in large part because the state support thac they had counted on to enforce the Yarur workers’ rights under the Labor Code deserted them in response to Juan Yarur’s wealth and power and the shifting sands of national politics. This was a lesson that the Old-timers who survived these defeats learned through bitter experience. For those like José Lagos, who had not joined these movements, their defeat confirmed the wisdom of placing “loyalty to the patrén” over solidarity with one’s companeros.”’ But even workers who had

participated in the movements came to similar conclusions. For some, it was a conversion experience that reflected their gratitude to “Don Juan” for ‘taking {them} back.”’° For others, chis change of heart reflected a disillusionment with the independent union’s lack of support or prospects for success. To Alicia Navarrete, che central reason for their defeat was that ““we didn’t have anyone to help us.” The leftist parties and unions were too weak and often

too divided as well, and despite initial promises of state assistance, Juan Yarur “had the support of the government and as a consequence nothing

came of it.” ,

Although their interpretations of the experience varied, Juan Yarur’s basic message had gotten through co all: He would brook no disloyalty, accept no independent union, and defeat any insurgent movement, no matter how size able its support, euphoric its initial victory, or promising its early prospects. ' After these defeats, “people were so demoralized that they didn’t want to get

involved in anything,” recalled Alicia Navarrete, ‘because we were always going to lose.””°' In their wake, even workers such as Juana Garrido, who stil! believed in “our cause,” had learned to feign loyalty and ‘‘to keep my thoughts co myself.”°” By 1954, those who had failed to learn this lesson were gone from the Yarur mill, along with the insurgent movements they had championed. The Old-timers who remained were all apatronados—out of conviction or calculation. When Juan Yarur died, in August 1954, “his” union and “his” workers were securely under his paternalistic control.

DON JORGE AND MR. TAYLOR

Juan Yarur’s sons didn’t just inherit a factory. They also inherited some thirty-five hundred workers, a system of social control, and a style of production. As the new head of the family mill, Jorge Yarur set out to change all three. A large majority of the blue-collar workers were women, whom Juan

The Making of the Old-timers 43 Yarur had preferred as machine operators because they earned 30 percent less chan men for the same work, were more reliable, and were more receptive

to Don Juan’s paternalistic charms. Although many of the workers of 1954

were relative newcomers to the mill, Old-timers predominated, and the average age of the work force was over thirty-five.°* Many of these Oldtimers were ill-educated or even illiterate, and most were apatronado in their mentality, the product of selective recruiting and careful socialization.” Juan Yarur had turned these loyalists into guardians of his paternalistic social order by encouraging them to inform on their co-workers.°° Many loyalists, however, were not very productive as workers, and most of them

lacked the education to handle the more modern technologies and work methods that Jorge Yarur envisioned for the mill’s fucure. During Juan Yarur’s last years, Jorge Yarur had urged his father to update his labor force and modernize his methods of managing it. Don Juan was aware of the need to keep up with changing times.°’ Under his son’s prodding, he began to require literacy in new obreros and to recruit better-educated technicians. But, for the most part, Juan Yarur had resisted his son’s suggestions, believing that the old ways were best—and more in keeping with his own personality and inclinations.” His father’s sudden death in 1954 gave Jorge Yarur the opportunity to puc his industrial vision into practice. First, he formed his own group of aides, most of whom had better training and more modern ideas than his father’s cronies. Then he began to modify the most eccentric and anachronistic aspects of Don Juan’s paternalism. The pseudoreligious oath of loyalty before a skull and crucifix died with its creator, whose special claim on his workers

was commemorated instead by a larger-than-life statue financed by their “voluntary” contributions. The mutual itself remained, but ic was de-emphasized as an instrument of social control and relegated to a subsidiary position as an agency of social welfare.” In its place, Jorge Yarur relied increasingly on a refurbished company union to distribute benefits and control the work force, a shift that brought Yarur into line with current Chilean business practice. This was combined with an effort to lend the company union leadership greater legitimacy in

the eyes of the workers. Benefits that Juan Yarur might have channeled through the mutual as gifts of the patrén were now presented to the workers as ‘“conquests won”’ by these “Yellow” union leaders in collective bargaining. The new company union leaders were allowed to compete with each other for votes and vied with each other in securing favors for their followers. By

and large, they were a younger and more popular lot, typified by Mario Leniz, an affable mustachioed fat man, whose political style resembled that of a ward boss.” These changes reflected not only the differences between Jorge Yarur’s

44 Origins: Capital, Labor, and the State ideas and his father’s but the evident difference in their personalities as well. Where Don Juan was a charismatic figure with an easy way with his workers, his most talented son was aloof and cold.’' He was not the man to carry on Juan Yarur’s backslapping paternalism with its illusion of intimacy between the workers and their patrén. Jorge Yarur was also not a sentimentalist where costs, competence, and productivity were concerned. He was notorious for firing new workers just before they had completed a year at the mill so as not to have to pay them

vacation benefits.’ Under Juan Yarur, about 60 percent of the blue-collar work force were women, many with long years of service, who were paid 30 percent less than men. But when the Ibafiez government, in the mid— 1950s, passed legislation granting women workers equal pay for equal work and six month maternity leaves, Jorge Yarur began to phase them out because

“they were becoming too protected.””’ Nor was he indulgent of longtime Yarur loyalists of questionable competence. Under Jorge Yarur, performance

became the criterion for promotion, and a growing number of graduates from the State Technical University (U.T.E.) were hired for supervisory and technical posts, threatening the careers of his father’s underqualified employees and foreclosing the empleado dreams of blue-collar apatronados.”* These personnel changes were preludes to Jorge Yarur’s most decisive break with his father’s mill: che transformation of its system of work. At bottom, Jorge Yarur’s principal concern was reducing costs so as to restore his textile mill’s profitability in an era of stagnant consumer demand, in-

creasing raw material prices, and growing domestic competition. Price, Waterhouse, the American management consultants whom Jorge Yarur had

hired to advise him on the modernization of the industry, estimated that there were twice as many obreros in the mill as necessary and concluded that

their wages and benefits were depressing company profits.’ The solution they counseled was to introduce the system of standardized work norms pioneered in the United States by Frederick Taylor and implemented with great success in Colombia, whose textile industry was both more productive and more profitable than Chile’s. For the job, they recommended Burlington Mills, which had played a seminal role in the modernization of the Colombian industry.’° In January 1962, Burlington’s Technical Advisory Service began co install

a modified version of the Taylor System in the Yarur mill, starting in che spinning section, where the production process began. First, “time and motion” studies were carried out to determine the optimal work method and production standard for each task. Then the workers were taught how to do their jobs without wasting a moment or a movement. Workers were given points for each production task and paid a small bonus for each day they earned enough points. Those who could not meet the norms were weeded

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A worker reads Ramona, a new leftist youth magazine, near a campaign poster advertising the Popular Unity (UP) slate for the Council of Administration in the August 1972 elections. The cartoon figure at the bottom, waring a hardhat inscribed UP EX-YARUR, points to the list of candidates and says: “These are ours, man!

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pation varied with the immediacy and character of the issue and the degree of difficulty of the activity, what was striking was the dramatic increase in the intensity and scope of worker political participation during the year and a half that followed the socialization of the Yarur mill. During this time, the workers of Ex-Yarur demonstrated that they were now prepared to vote, to speak their mind in public, to sign petitions, to join demonstrations, and to organize the physical defense of the factory when they perceived that their vital interests were at stake. In mid—1972, almost all Ex-Yarur workers appeared ready to defend the socialization of “their” industry, most were

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